


redemption lies plainly in truth

by transvav



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst due to misunderstandings, Gen, Panic Attacks, breakdowns, i think. he needs. to be treated gently. and he has not been., self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:59:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transvav/pseuds/transvav
Summary: they don't get it. none of them get it, none of them are really listening, and now he's the villain again. why does he always end up as the fucking villain.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Jordan Maron
Comments: 16
Kudos: 211





	redemption lies plainly in truth

**Author's Note:**

> might be too good at writing breakdowns. idk. dream should uhhh. dream should take a break. my mans is sad.

dream walks away from the fight with dust on his axe, and he starts to shake the second he turns away. the sharpness of sapnap’s voice still stings, the acid in quackity’s, the burning upset of george’s. if he didn’t know better, he’d think his ears were bleeding from how every word still rings‒ they don’t get it, he thinks, knuckles white against his axe’s grip. they don’t get it, they never have, not recently. he feels like they might have known a while back, but too much has changed, now. there’s too much stress.

he needs to go. he needs to go now. there’s pressure at the back of his head and he keeps his jaw clenched shut tight and nearly doesn’t _breathe_ , he’s trying so hard. he tucks his axe back into it’s hidden spot in the ether and tucks his fists further into his sleeves, slipping away between the buildings and keeping to the shadows, because he’s good at that part. his breath comes out in smokey puffs from behind his mask, trailing behind him like a beacon.

where can he go, though‒ where _should_ he go. how far can he run before the compass starts up again, he wonders? how fast can he go before they realize the stakes and everyone's back to their old habits?

_because that's what you wanted, isn't it?_ some part of his mind reminds him. _you wanted to go back to how it was_.

but not like this.

nether, he thinks dimly. nether might be good.

heat is not grounding, he knows, he knows, but the fortresses are spread out enough that he could just hole up in there, for a bit, and if anyone deigned to stumble upon him he could always say he was sniffling because of the netherwart. the only people that know it’s bullshit would be hunting him.

(or they just don’t care. god only knows what techno is up to, these days. dream can’t be bothered to exactly check. he no longer has the time for that, but he wishes he did.)

the trek to the nether portal is full of shivering steps and paranoia‒ the hair on the back of his neck are standing on end, and they think they’re _safe_ , when they whisper to one another, but even in his claims of his mortality, he knows he’s more than human and he hates it because he hears every little word. the ice is settling into his bones and driving him further and further‒ if it weren’t for how tightly he was trying to hold himself together, he’d feel numb.

there’s a space between the shadows and the nether portal where he’s vulnerable. the sight of the community house makes him stutter, breath shuddering as it escapes him. the only reason he doesn’t break right then and there is because he thinks he saw the ghost of wilbur following him from afar. it might’ve been a trick of the fog, but dream doesn’t know how to figure the difference anymore. not like this.

something sizzles when he steps through the portal. it takes him a moment to realize it’s him‒ or. rather. his tears. he didn’t realize he was already crying. maybe he should move a little faster‒ no one’s going to see the tears behind his mask, but someone might hear him choke on his own breath when it gets worse, so. he takes a few pearls out of his pack and chucks them. at one point or another he can’t see anything, suffocating on his own heavy breaths. every time they shatter he struggles to catch his focus again.

(he feels the second the compasses come back to life. it draws on his heartbeat like a lifeline, and isn’t that the issue with being non-human, how he feels the magic settle across his skin and thrum every time they use it. they haven’t yet, but they will soon‒ he knows who’s holding what. bad and ant haven’t picked theirs up, yet, but he can feel when george picks it up from the lockbox he’d hidden it in.

sapnap never put his away, though.)

he finally stumbles far enough away that he feels, at least, momentarily safe. the withers and blazes and piglins take one look at him and leave him be‒ he’d spend more time asking himself why, but he’s so fucking close to just shattering that it doesn’t matter. he finds one of the staircases, haphazardly closes off the windows and halls, and then tucks himself deep into the nook.

when he takes off the mask it’s with uncontrollable shivers‒ it’s like the world is crumbling around him, earthquakes and vibrations, everything is wrong, wrong, wrong, and he just‒ he _just_ ‒

( _you don’t give a shit about us. you hate me. all you care about is‒_ )

it leaves him in one long breath, and then he can’t get that breath back again. he struggles to breathe at all, hiccuping and gasping for air, tucking his head so that his knees press against his forehead, and he digs his blunt fingernails into his scalp, running his hands through his hair and tugging sharply at the hair tie to let it all loose. it’s too _much_ , it’s too much, because he hasn’t done enough, has he?

he’s really fucking outdone himself this time. he’s really gone and ruined every fucking thing because he can’t let one thing go. he can’t let _one_ thing go. he makes george king because it’s what he promised and then george’s house get’s burned down so he confronts tommy about it and then tommy makes it a _federal fucking issue_ and brings up old wounds and then sapnap doesn’t _listen_ he hears what he wants, what he needs, and when dream realizes he’s hurting his friends like this he tries so hard to fix it but they don’t get it, no one gets it‒

_why is he the villain again, why does this keep fucking happening, is he not good‒_

is his entire existence just. inherently fucked up? it must be. he must be some fucking mistake, he has to be, he’s the issue, he’s the villain, he _just wanted things to be calm again_. but because he’s here, everything is inherently cursed to go to shit. so he might as well just... leave, right?

he doesn’t know how long he cries. it’s well past fucking overdue, all bottled up from back when he’d had to shoot tommy at that bridge‒ he probably should’ve let a bit go back at the festival, but he was worried about other things, then, and he’d managed to push it down even further. when his gasping for air turns to stuttering, but consistent, short breaths, he sniffs, and sits up a little, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes and tries hard to steady himself again.

“stupid,” he chastises himself quietly. “fuckin’. totally unnecessary.”

he digs his mask out of the soul sand and brushes it off with his pants, still wiping at the tear tracks and the snot with his sleeve. he tugs to ceramic back over his face haphazardly and slings his hood up, tugging the strings a little tighter and ignoring the way his hair feels on his neck and shoulders. his chest is still tight and he still feels like he’s choking, and he just really fucking misses being able to relax, but.

it’s fine, he thinks. he’s just being an idiot.

he stands unsteadily and starts to take down his barriers from the hall and windows, and then‒ and then, when he steps out into the warped forest around him, he sees a splash of red amongst the blue. he stumbles over his feet when he sees them, thinks for a second it might be tommy, or techno, or. even bad, but‒

“captain?” he asks, and hopes the man can’t hear the shake in his voice. “what’re you doing way out here?”

the captain smiles, a little patiently, a little sad, and polishes the ender pearls in his grasp without looking up at him. “it’s kind of been a mess around here, huh?”

“yeah, i, uh. yeah. not great. it’s fine, though, i mean‒ we can figure it out. we always do.”

“dream...” the captain says gently. “...you need a break.”

dream stands there, speechless, and for a long, long moment, just does nothing. just does nothing, just stares blankly for a long, horrible moment. the captain puts the pearls down and just waits carefully, wrapped in his coat, waiting for something, and isn’t _hurting_ , isn’t looking at dream like he’s some kind of monster, isn’t regarding him with judgement and anger and‒

dream crumbles forwards to his knees, and loses whatever careful composure he’d built up for himself, hiccuping back on his tears once again, and the captain pulls him close and breathes with him, slow, steady, and stable.

“i have a home realm away from isles i could take you to,” he hears him say. “only if you’re okay with it.”

“...please,” dream says, tightening his fists into the coat and feeling much smaller than he truly was, and finds he doesn’t mind. maybe if he’s gone he doesn’t have to think about any of it. maybe they’ll understand, when he’s gone. maybe it’s the only chance he has for them to get it.

or maybe it’s just because there’s no reason for them to hate him _more_ if he’s gone, is there.

“come on, then,” the captain says, gentle as anything, and dream whispers a _thank you_ before they leave the realm together right there.

**Author's Note:**

> please i just- please i need to see him safe PLEASE-   
> my [tumblr](http://transandor.tumblr.com)  
> come yell at me ig :)


End file.
